I own nothing.

I knew something huge had happened the moment I saw the car pull into my driveway. I didn't realize how big it was until I saw Don. I also knew I was going to be on the receiving end of his rage sooner or later.

I've been beating myself up about not telling him the truth two years ago. I don't know if I made the right decision, not that I had much choice. I had to tell Olivia and Elliot. They were there when I was shot. Olivia used her hands to try and stop me from bleeding to death, and though I was too shocked and weak to acknowledge anything, I can still see the fear shining in her eyes and the way she looked at Elliot, as though pleading with him to save me. As if he could do something she couldn't.

I begged to be allowed to tell them. I couldn't go into Witness Protection without them knowing. If I had my way, I would have told everyone…Elliot, Olivia, Melinda, George, John, Fin, and Don…but that, of course, is completely contrary to the point of the program. They didn't even want to let me tell Elliot and Liv, but I used some of my clout as an A.D.A. to persuade them…a strange concession, considering A.D.A. Alexandra Cabot was dead.

But I wish I could have told Don as well. He, more than anyone else, deserved to know, and yet he was as hoodwinked as the rest of them. That's no way to treat the man you love.

I considered calling him so many times. I knew it would be the most idiotic move I could make, but even that wasn't enough to stop me. I had to come up with other reasons, and the one I clung to was that he was better off not knowing.

How would that conversation have gone? "Hi, Don, this is Alex. I'm not dead." And then what? Any closure he had would be gone, and for nothing. I would still be Emily, and I would still be in Wisconsin. It wouldn't make any difference; it would just hurt him more.

I learned to live with the knowledge that I left the man I loved in New York, and I intended to keep the secret for the rest of my life. It hurt, but I convinced myself I was doing it for him. And I was.

But I never dreamed that he would learn the truth on his own and show up on my doorstep, his eyes full of sadness and anger that almost knocked me down.

I had absolutely no intention of falling in love with a man who technically worked for me. At the beginning, he absolutely despised me. Of course, much of his animosity was probably due to the fact that two of his detectives were under review by the Morris Commission. He cared about them and didn't want to see all their hard work ignored in favor of the admissions of their worst moments. It tore him apart, especially the way Monique blamed him for it, as if he was on the Commission's side.

He resented me because he thought I was assigned to keep his squad in line. That was not the case, and after we cleared the waters, we got along well.

We had breakfast together every Wednesday that we could, and our relationship progressed. Neither of us expected it, and we didn't even mention it until it became impossible to ignore and we were kissing in his office after all the detectives had gone home.

I can still see the look on his face…he obviously felt guilty, and he was uncomfortable with the age difference. I wasn't, but I couldn't help stringing him along a little.

"This isn't a father thing, is it?" he asked me when we broke apart, both of us breathing somewhat heavily. He tried to sound like he was joking, but I recognized the underlying worry about the propriety of our relationship.

I immediately nodded. "Yes. My therapist says it's because my dad never hugged me."

He stared at me for a second before he dropped his eyes. I couldn't let him suffer any more, so I put my fingers under his chin and forced him to look at me. "Don. I'm kidding. I have a thing for good men."

He never questioned it after that, and I was grateful. I didn't want to lose him.

And then he came to Wisconsin. I could hardly look at him because of the hurt in his eyes, the hurt I caused. He thought I didn't trust him.

We didn't speak much on the way to New York. I asked about the detectives, and he asked me about my job. We discussed the case, and it was almost like old times…except I was no longer the prosecutor.

It was wonderful to have him at my side in the courtroom. He always sat with me and he listened to my testimony. I even saw him smile a little when I goaded Conners into yelling at me, and I knew he was remembering old times. When the judge polled the jury and we heard the verdict on his attempt on my life, Don gently squeezed my hand.

As I sat there, my heart leaping for joy at the conviction, I planned what I was going to say to everyone. I wanted to thank Casey for helping me get justice; I wanted to tell her that I was sorry I never got to work with her. I wanted to go out for dinner and drinks with the detectives like we used to. I needed to talk to Don and tell him I was sorry for leaving.

And then I was told that I needed to go back into Witness Protection, immediately. I stared at the agent for close to five minutes, absolutely shocked. It hurt too much…I had to leave without saying goodbye? Again? And I was leaving another dead woman behind me…Emily. I wondered vaguely what the story for my coworkers, for my boyfriend, would be. I thought about all the pain I'd cause them…especially Rick. He loved me, or rather, he loved Emily.

I couldn't stand it. I pleaded with the agent to let me see all my New York friends one last time, but he shook his head. I bargained with him, tears rolling down my face, for a long time. He wouldn't let me see the detectives or Casey, but he finally told me I could leave the next morning.

I knew what he meant. I had no idea how he knew about my relationship with Don, but somehow he did, and he gave me one last night.

He drove me to Don's apartment and I entered with the key he had given me years ago. I was more than a little surprised that he hadn't changed the locks, but I didn't waste any time thinking about it. I had a little less than six hours.

I walked the familiar hall to the kitchen where I saw a light on. Upon entering, I saw Don standing at the counter, contemplating an unopened bottle of whiskey. I closed my eyes briefly, knowing the kind of pain he had to be in before he even considered drinking again.

"Don't," I said softly, stopping in the doorway.

He turned around slowly, his eyes starting at my feet and moving all the way up to my eyes as if he couldn't believe I was really there. I could hardly believe it myself.

"Alex," he breathed, and he crossed the room before I had the chance to take another breath. He wrapped his arms around me immediately. It was like he was afraid I would disappear…a mirage. Or a ghost.

"God, Alex…I don't know whether to yell at you or kiss you."

"I've got a few hours. You can do both."

He reached out tentatively and took a section of my hair between his fingers. "You're as beautiful as ever."

"Thank you." I looked into his eyes for a few minutes before I said, "I'm so sorry."

I saw all the anger leave his eyes. I couldn't believe it was so easy to get him to forgive me, and I was relieved…until I noticed that while the anger was gone, the sadness had increased tenfold. I'd rather take the anger. "I think I understand," he said gently. "Let's just forget about it."

I nodded. "Don…I've missed you so much."

Without another word, he brought his lips to mine and kissed me with days and days of pent-up passion. I leaned into him, almost too weak to stay upright by myself. God, I'd forgotten just how right it was with him.

He guided me backward to his bedroom where he carefully lowered me onto my back, kissing the tears from my cheeks. I hadn't even realized I was crying.

We made love as though we had all the time in the world even though, in reality, we were already on borrowed time. We knew it would be the last time for us. If we had known that before I was shot, we would have prolonged our final night together. At least we had warning this time.

When Don released himself inside me, he whispered my name. My name. Alex.

"It's so good to hear you say that," I said weakly, looking up at him.

He brought his mouth back to mine. "Alex," he murmured against my lips. "Alex. Alex. Alex."

We remained there for the rest of the night. The agent was picking me up at three a.m. to get me on the earliest flight he could. At a quarter to the hour, I rose and started dressing, feeling Don's eyes on me. I pulled on my jacket and returned to Don, sitting level with his waist. He took my hand and kissed it.

I looked at him sadly. "The women you love are always leaving you, aren't they?" I asked, referring to myself and Marge.

"At least I get to say goodbye to one of them." He pulled me to him for another kiss. "I love you, Alex."

"I love you, too." I heard a car pull up outside and my heart fell. I got to my feet. "Don't forget me," I whispered, trying desperately not to cry again.

"Never."

I nodded at him, biting my lip to hold back my tears. With one final smile, I turned and walked out of his room, out of his reach…out of his life.